


unattainable

by Transistors



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 20:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transistors/pseuds/Transistors
Summary: His king is shrouded behind masks upon masks, veils that wrap around him and hide his entirety away - even when the man is so open, so warm and welcoming, it feels as if there is something Kain is missing, something that Cecil is hiding away from him, and all he can do is want and want for a man so beautifully unattainable. He wants and wants, but he is sure he will never get... for the King is a treasure not meant to be touched by his hands.





	unattainable

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to let you know that this came out of nowhere for me and idk how or why I got in the mood to write a final fantasy 4 fic, but... here it is. A final fantasy 4 fic!

In every way that he describes how he feels for his king, he describes Cecil Harvey as though he is an expensive artefact that he will never have the opportunity to grab. Unattainably gorgeous, he thinks to himself as the lone king – no heir to his name, no wife by his side, nothing but an immeasurably long length of life – invades his thoughts, makes Kain’s breath stutter to a halt in his chest before exhaling out roughly, a jewellery so exquisite that he feels guilty for even thinking of being able to put his hand on the other man.

Perhaps it is best that he restrains himself this way, Kain thinks to himself. He stands by his king’s side, watches the man far too gorgeous for earthly means – plush lips an eternal blue, further exemplifying his otherworldliness. Skin paler than death itself, glowing like the moon’s rays underneath the sun, and Kain wishes to place his own, tanner hand upon his cheek – feel if he is as cold as he looks, even when he knows that Cecil is anything but. He is ever dutiful to his king, ever mindful to keep his lust to himself and to never have it spill out into his life, but even then it pains him so.

In their kingdom, where Cecil has become known as the moon god – a title he detests and vehemently denies whenever anyone calls him, but cannot shake off thanks to the stubbornness of their folk – and Kain his dutiful dragon lord, he thinks it a torment. He sees himself reflected in Rosa, sees her by his right-side, while Kain is situated at Cecil’s left, and hesitating to get closer, to smile, to place a hand upon his shoulder comfortingly and ask how the great lord is doing. They both see it in each other, in the way Rosa’s gaze lingers on Kain’s hidden ones, looking as pained as he feels even if his helmet hides away his expression, and they never utter a word.

The lone king never makes mentions of the way they treat him; he accepts their affections easily, smiles spreading on his lips when he is sequestered away from the rest of the world, where none of his subjects will see the exhaustion plaguing his face, the way he leans on Rosa or Kain to be able to rest, head resting on their shoulder or chest, where he is so tired and yet won’t sleep – dreams do not come easy to him, nightmares sleeping in instead and he wants to be the one to slip into his bed. His far too large bed meant to accommodate a married couple, even a child should they fear the night, that Cecil curls in alone and never sleeps in. His thoughts are dangerous, wanting more and more from this man, but he keeps to himself, keeps his hands far away from the other, and Cecil never says anything.

Perhaps he never will. Perhaps he will look at Kain like he does every other day and smile, unbothered, unperturbed, by the way Rosa or his gaze lingers on his body. Perhaps he will let Kain hold him and never mention it again, because Cecil has gotten good at that now – has become a man far too willing to quiet himself for the sake of him, Rosa. No one knows of the betrayal that Kain has committed, Cecil all too quick to hush it up and make sure the truth stays buried with his parents, with his foster father, with his past.

He wants to make love to the king that has tried his hardest to ensure that Kain lives an easy life by his side.

Desire wages a battle in his heart with the logical part of him, the one that tells him that he cannot be the one to be Cecil’s lover – though it seems even Rosa is not spared that insecurity. A deeper companionship formed by unsure touches and sobs shared between their kisses, where they both want each other and another –

It is undoubtedly, accidentally cruel of Cecil to be this way to them, but the king is a king – and he has more things to worry about than the possibly unrequited love that his right and left hand woman and man feel towards him. He hopes the man never learns about how he feels for him, how he yearns – how his heart speeds up, pounding against his ribcage, demanding he take Cecil into his arms and give to him a love the man seems to have not been witness to for years.

There is just something about the way the man isolates himself from his kingdom, busying himself with mountains of work he should not be tackling alone, that makes Kain’s heart ache. He is hidden away within veils upon veils, mourning and wedding overlapping until he doesn’t know whether to celebrate or to grieve in silence, face shrouded and expression hidden away even during his sweetest, warmest moments. A man so infallibly unreadable yet so obstinately open, a spirit sent down to remind him of the purity of this world even when those attempt to taint it. He is one such filth – him and Rosa, both, he thinks, when shaky hands reach out and all he wants to do is stroke deep lines into Cecil’s thighs, grab at his arms, shoulders, hips – hold him still and kiss him until he is painted purple, drowning deep in Kain’s desires.

He is so colourless, so empty, so blank and pale, all Kain wishes is to leave his mark behind somewhere before they fade away – due to Lunarian biology, due to his holy magic, he will not know – and remind himself how unshakably far away Cecil is.

A king draped in sea-blues and burning golds, wrapped up in wedding-whites and waiting for someone to sweep him away, an implausible goal that Cecil has not set yet Kain has.

He thinks and thinks and thinks, then silences his thoughts as he escorts Cecil to his chamber. A sweet smile is given up to him, the king dressed up to the crown in regal wear, in heavy robes and long dragging cape that he wears more out of annoying tradition than actual sense of royalty – if it is up to Cecil, he will have dressed in grey commons and gone outside, walked among his men, smiling and  grinning and laughing at the jokes his people make.

Instead he stands lonely before Kain, hands clasped together in front of him, head tilting back to gaze up at his dragoon, and he bows and turns to leave.

A strong grip wraps around his hand.

“Stay the night, Kain.” Cecil says. “Just one night.”

Kain has always been an easily corruptible man; not anymore by others, but now by himself. It is in a relaxing of his shoulders, the bowing of his head, purple cascading over his back, and he relents.

He shouldn’t, and still. And still.

And still, he paints Cecil with his desires, even if all he does that night is curl up behind the other man.

**Author's Note:**

> [ My tumblr! ](https://masculinedevil.tumblr.com)
> 
> [My twitter! ](https://twitter.com/starrelia)


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